


так красиво

by thedarknesswithin (babylxxrry)



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, M/M, Unrequited Love, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 11:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18893773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babylxxrry/pseuds/thedarknesswithin
Summary: misha announces he's engaged. nate isn't sure what to feel.





	так красиво

**Author's Note:**

> hello  
> first of all, this is FICTION. what irl misha and fiancee and nate are up to is none of my business. congrats to misha & fiancee btw lmao
> 
> second..... i wrote this in about three hours and didn't do much besides a quick skim for major errors so please do let me know if there's anything that should be tweaked!

Nate’s phone rings in his hand. He blinks hard, numb.

_Misha Kolyadicc_ , the screen reads. The contact picture is a semi-candid of Misha laughing, blurry in dim gala lighting.

Nate picks up.

“Nate?” Misha’s voice is soft, and Nate’s stupid heart speeds up at the familiar sound.

“Hi. Um,” Nate swallows hard. “Uh, congratulations.” He doesn’t sound happy, or enthusiastic, or any of the things he meant to put into his tone.

“Thanks,” Misha replies, softer. “Hey, listen.” He trails off, and Nate picks at the lint on his sweats. His hand is almost shaking and his throat is dry. He doesn’t know why. He shouldn’t be nervous, and yet his body is telling him he should be.

“Yeah?” Nate doesn’t mean to snap, but it comes out snappy and he wants to slap himself for it. God, why is this so hard? This… thing he and Misha had was never like this. It was never hard, not this way. It was never supposed to be this way.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“She and I…” Misha pauses for a long, long moment. “We’ve been together for a while. A long while.”

Nate rubs absently at his sternum. His heart is racing, but not in a good way this time. “How long?”

Misha is quiet. Nate wishes he could see his face, because then he could at least tell what Misha was trying to say, maybe.

“Years, Nate.”

Nate presses his eyes closed when Misha finally replies. This is exactly what he’d thought was coming.

“So you cheated on her. With me.” It’d been one night. Just one night. Alcohol and post-competition adrenaline had fueled a kiss in the quiet back corner of the banquet hall, and it’d gone from there. Just one night. Nate can hear his own pulse in his ears and he sucks in a breath when he realizes he hasn’t breathed in too long.

Misha’s silence is all the answer he needs.

“Why?”

Misha sighs and starts his response a few times before he settles on a train of thought. “I was drunk. You were drunk. Things happened.”

Nate prays to a god he doesn’t know if he believes in that Misha won’t say the one thing that would break him.

“And?”

“I was stupid and horny and you were just…Ты был прекрасен,” Misha murmurs the last phrase in Russian like it’s a secret, like maybe he wants to hold on to it but he just can’t. “You were beautiful.”

And maybe “I was stupid” isn’t what Nate wanted to hear, but it’s so much better than “I made a mistake”, and that’s all he could ever ask for. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to take it if Misha tells him it was a mistake. That’s not even talking about the “you were beautiful” part of Misha’s statement. Nate can’t process that right now, so he files it away for later.

“I’m sorry,” Misha says again when Nate doesn’t reply.

“Don’t be.” Nate tugs at a curl falling in his face. He needs a haircut. “Does she know?”

“No.”

“Will she ever?”

Misha hesitates. “If all goes well? No.”

“Okay.”

“If it makes you feel any better, she and I weren’t exactly together when you and I…”

“That doesn’t make it better, Misha. You were both committed long-term and I’m sure you knew you’d marry her someday.”

“Yeah.” Misha doesn’t even try to deny it, and Nate can’t tell what would feel worse, this blunt acceptance or a feeble attempt to disagree.

They fall into silence so thick it crackles over the phone line and Nate feels like he’s frozen to his seat the way he’s been since he clicked the notification that Misha had posted something on Instagram.

“Misha?” Nate feels very small when he speaks.

Misha hums in acknowledgement.

“Was I… was it a mistake?”

“No.”

Nate waits for Misha to explain, to give some context, just _something_ more than “no”, but it never comes.

“Okay.” Nate feels a little less small, but no less vulnerable. He brings his feet onto his chair, pulling his knees in. Someone walks by and he barely glances up. Their footsteps fade.

“Are you coming? To the wedding?” Misha sounds oddly nervous, and Nate finds some solace in the fact that he’s not the only one putting something on the line. And he doesn’t know if he can. He doesn’t know if he can go to the wedding of a friend he didn’t mean to fall in love with. But he did, and now he has to say something. Misha is waiting.

“I don’t know,” Nate says, a beat past his cue. He’s struggling to keep up, like falling on a jump and rushing to meet his music again. Panic starts to well up in his throat and he forces himself to breathe. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Misha sighs. “Okay. I understand.” He sounds relieved, and Nate’s stomach aches. “I, um. I have to go. Thank you.”

“You should call more,” Nate says on impulse. He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should. And you too.”

“Yeah. Okay. I… You should go.”

“Nathan, you know I…” Misha takes a breath like he’s going to keep going, but stops. “Yeah. I’m going.”

“Bye, Misha,” Nate says, just louder than a whisper, and it feels awfully, horribly like the ending of something that never made it to its full potential.

“Bye, Nate.”

>> 

Nate goes to the wedding. Of course he does. How could he not?

He watches numbly as people rush past him willy-nilly as they greet old friends and new family. Soon-to-be new family, at least. A couple of familiar faces wave him over, and he sighs when he sees Shoma and Alina.

“Both of you came?”

“We couldn’t not come,” Alina says, smiling. “How’ve you been?” She offers a hug which Nate accepts gratefully. Shoma isn’t much for hugging, but he bumps fists with Nate.

“It’s a lot to process,” Nate says honestly, and Alina laughs softly.

“I can imagine. Not even Medo knew, I think.”

“No?”

Alina shakes her head. “She texted me in all caps the day he posted and asked if I’d known. First time she’d texted me in weeks, but that’s not a conversation for today.”

Shoma just twitches his shoulder in a shrug when Nate glances at him. He makes a note to pull Shoma aside later and ask about what the fuck, exactly, was going on with Alina and Zhenya.

“Is she here?” Nate knows Zhenya and Misha were pretty close before Zhenya moved, but he honestly hasn’t been keeping track.

“I think so,” Shoma says. “She left her bag over there.” He waves in the general direction of the pews on Misha’s side of the cathedral. “But I haven’t seen her since then.”

“Thank god,” Alina mutters. “Sorry. We have some… shit to work out. Don’t worry about it.”

Nate raises an eyebrow and nods. “Alright. Where are you sitting?”

“Third row behind that second column,” Shoma says, pointing. “But I think that whole area is filled already.”

“Oh.”

Nate ends up sitting near the back, on the aisle. Some aunt and uncle of Misha’s is sitting in his row, but one of them keeps falling asleep and the other seems entirely unresponsive to the world but for beatific smiles whenever a small child runs past.

When the ceremony starts, Nate realizes he can see Misha the entire time from this angle. He wants to be happy, he so desperately wants to be happy, but he feels like he might cry when Misha is literally _glowing_ , watching each set of bridesmaids and groomsmen come down the aisle.

Nate takes a deep breath when the music changes and the whole room stands to watch the entrance of the bride. He can’t take his eyes off of Misha.

He feels like he’s falling out of a popped quad and landing on his back when Misha sees his bride. His entire face lights up, smile bigger and brighter than Nate’s ever seen, and Nate doesn’t even need to be close to know that his nose is scrunched and the corners of his eyes are crinkling and he’s so goddamn beautiful Nate stops breathing for a minute. The bride stepping into his field of vision breaks the spell, though, and he dutifully watches as she passes, her own smile radiant under the veil.

Nate wants to hate her. He wants to hate her with everything in his being, but he can’t. He can’t, not when Misha is so happy. He can’t take that away, no matter how much he wants to swoop in and tell Misha that he’s stupidly, unforgivably in love with him.

The vows are all in Russian, so Nate is at least spared that, but he’s not stupid, he knows what they’re saying even if he doesn’t know the language. Everyone around him cries. He thinks he hears Zhenya’s laugh at one point when Misha stumbles over his words and everyone chuckles tearfully.

And then they kiss. Nate can’t breathe for a solid minute.

When they come back down the aisle, Nate meets Misha’s eyes, and Misha’s expression softens for a second.

_I’m sorry_. Nate can read his face, clear as the sky outside. _I’m sorry it had to be this way. Please forgive me._

They sweep past him on a wave of cheers before Nate can blurt all the things he wants to tell Misha.

>> 

The food at the reception is really fucking good. Nate ends up sitting at a table that apparently has been designated for the handful of skaters Misha invited. Someone had the good sense to put Alina and Zhenya on opposite sides of the table, where they’ve been studiously ignoring each other besides a frosty greeting since they sat down. Nate still has no idea what happened, and he’s not entirely sure he wants to. He’s between Shoma and Daniel, both of whom he gets along with, so small talk is easy, at least until it turns to Misha.

“I never knew you and Misha were close,” Daniel comments, spearing a carrot slice on his fork. “But I suppose I’m not surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Daniel says, “But the two of you… there were always rumors, you know?”

Nate did know that, but he’d assumed it was all from that fans. “Even around our friends and stuff?”

“Oh yeah, plenty. Pretty sure good money was lost the day he posted.”

“There were bets? What the fuck.”

“It’s all just rumors, but I heard Stasya won some major cash on a very lowkey bet between just like four people, but it was for something _really_ specific. I want to say it was hooking up at a certain competition and a certain way but I don’t remember. Ask Liza or Dima, I think they were in on it.”

Nate isn’t going to do that, but he finds it the very slightest bit amusing that there was a bet—multiple bets, apparently—running on him and Misha. Maybe everyone else saw something neither of them did until it was too late. But if Misha’s been seeing this girl, his _wife_ now, for years, it’s been years too late. Nate giggles at the thought. What if he and Misha had really ended up together? God, it would’ve been a mess. But it’d have been a mess with damn good sex.

Nate sees Daniel looking at him with wide eyes and realizes he might have said part of that out loud. Not loud enough for the whole table, thankfully, but Nate thinks maybe he should lay off on the champagne. Yeah. That’s a good idea.

“Whatever you just said, I’m going to pretend you’re just really drunk, even though we both know you’re not,” Daniel says carefully.

Nate nods vigorously. “Yeah. That’s good. Thank you.”

He spends the rest of dinner nursing a glass of water and enjoying the food, allowing the people around him to steer the conversation every which way besides Misha. It’s good, for a while.

>> 

It’s all kinds of déjà vu when Misha finds Nate in the corner of the hotel ballroom. The dancefloor is packed and has been for a little while, everything still in full swing. It could be another two hours before things wrap up, and Nate has a headache from the flashing lights. At least, that’s what he tells himself. The ache in his chest has become a constant he’s learned to ignore for the most part, and he’s not sure the headache isn’t an extension of that.

“Hey Nate,” Misha says over the music. He sounds very slightly tipsy, pushing his hair out of his face with his hand. His ring glints and Nate stares at it. He’s sobered up, mostly, and at this point he’s not planning on getting smashed.

“Congratulations, Misha,” Nate says with a smile he hopes looks genuine, or that Misha is drunk enough to think it’s genuine. It doesn’t work, apparently, because Misha seems to sober up instantly.

“Come here. We need to talk.” Misha takes Nate’s hand and pulls him out of the ballroom into one of the small rooms designated for catering staff earlier. It’s dark and empty for the most part, but there’s moonlight that at least lets them see where they’re stepping. A small couch sits at one end of the room, along with a coffee table and a rug on top of the carpet. Nate wonders why there’s a rug on top of carpet, but brushes the thought aside.

“Sit,” Misha says, pushing Nate’s shoulders gently.

Nate shakes his head. “I’ll stand.”

“Fine by me,” Misha says, perching on the arm of the sofa.

 “I don’t know what to say,” Nate starts, “But I’m happy for you, I promise.”

“The fact that you felt the need to say that means you’re not,” Misha says, awfully coherent for being a little tipsy just moments ago. Then Nate remembers Misha can hold his alcohol. Fuck Russians and their true stereotypes honestly. But don’t actually fuck them, because then you’ll catch feelings and by the beard of Odin that’s not something you want to do. Nate can confirm. He did it himself. He’s kind of stupid sometimes, for having gotten into Yale.

Nate might be a little tipsier than he originally thought.

“Why, Misha?”

“Why what?”

“Why’d you kiss me? If you had her.”

“I already told you,” Misha says with a little sigh, running his hand through his hair again. It’s dark enough that his ring doesn’t show, and Nate is grateful for it. “I was drunk and high on adrenaline and you were… there.”

That’s not what he said last time, Nate knows, and he knows Misha knows he knows. But it’s only logical. They’re literally _at Misha’s wedding,_ to a girl he’s been definitely, totally faithful to despite ups and downs in their relationship, the way any relationship works. Of course he wouldn’t call Nate “beautiful”. It was never true to begin with, Nate thinks, and somehow it doesn’t hurt to think anymore.

“She makes you happy,” Nate says softly, his head clearing for a minute.

Misha nods, barely perceptible. “She does. She’s good for me. Too good for me.”

“I’m glad. Really. I’m really happy for you, whether you believe me or not.”

“You love me,” Misha says simply, and Nate startles into silence. “I know.”

“You- I- what? How?”

“You love me. You’re easy to read, you know?”

“Am I obvious about it?” Nate feels like he’s been left open and vulnerable to any hits Misha might make at this point, and he would be completely justified in doing so. What kind of person falls in love after just one night together? It’s scary. Nate is scared, because he has nothing to protect himself with now.

“Only if I were looking.”

“You looked?”

Misha rubs his palms over his face. “I did. You know, that night wasn’t just that night. You felt it as much as I did.”

“Felt what?” Nate wants to hope, but he can’t. Not now. Not again.

“Remember what I almost said when I called you after the post?”

Of course Nate remembers. He’s been replaying every fraction of that phone call in his mind since it happened. Of course he remembers. “Yes.”

“Look at me, Nathan Chen,” Misha says, voice low. “Look at me.”

Nate does. Misha is standing close to him, far closer than personal space allows. Nate almost stumbles back but Misha catches his shoulders.

“I loved you with all of my heart, Nate, and I still love you with all of my heart, but it’s not something that would ever work.” Misha’s voice is fierce with the passion that he’s known for on-ice, but so rarely shows its face off-ice. “And you deserve so, so much better than being trapped in a relationship with someone who will never be able to come out, who you will never be able to post about and talk publicly about.”

Nate’s entire world has just been flipped upside down and back around within the span of three seconds but he’s never felt surer about anything than when he leans in and catches Misha’s lips with his own. Misha kisses him back with the same urgency, burying his hands in his hair and pulling him closer. It’s like coming home after a long tour or a particularly rough competition. It’s solid and warm and safe and perfect, and Nate feels like he’s breaking inside with every second that passes.

“We can’t do that again,” Misha whispers when they separate.

“I know.” Nate ignores the throbbing ache in his chest. “I know.”

Misha pulls him into a hug, cupping his head in his hand and holding him tight. Nate breathes into Misha’s neck and chokes back the tears welling up in his throat.

“I’m so sorry, Nate, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. Please.”

Nate is the first to let go, and he takes a step back.

“Promise me we’ll call once it’s all settled?” Misha asks, just this side of pleading.

“I promise,” Nate says. “I promise.”

“Okay. They’re going to be looking for me.” Misha straightens his clothes and ruffles his hair until it’s passably neat. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” Nate pauses. “Bye, Misha.”

“Bye, Nate.” With one last squeeze to Nate’s arm, Misha leaves back to the chaos of the ballroom and Nate is left standing alone.

He waits a few minutes and tries to keep himself from crying before he leaves the room. He weaves his way through the ballroom to the lobby of the hotel and rides the elevator up to his room.

The sheets are cold when he strips and slides under the covers. Once he flips the lamp off and sees what’s on his phone, he’s helpless to stop the tears.

 From Misha, 5min ago: _You were beautiful. You ARE beautiful, Nate. Never forget that. x M_

 

-fin.

**Author's Note:**

> the russian "Ты был прекрасен" means "you were beautiful". the russian "так красиво" means "so beautiful". (russian speakers please correct me if needed !)
> 
> leave a comment or kudos if you liked this or if you want to kill me also let me know !! <3 thanks for reading


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